


The Electronic Configuration of Hate and Love

by deadlydecember1214



Category: Boy Meets World, Girl Meets World
Genre: AU, Enemies to Friends, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Riarkle, prompt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-21
Updated: 2017-05-28
Packaged: 2018-10-22 09:11:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 17,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10693932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deadlydecember1214/pseuds/deadlydecember1214
Summary: "The only thing the two seemed able to agree upon was that Abigail Adams was definitely not big enough for the both of them."Riley Matthews and Farkle Minkus have hated each other from the first day of Freshmen year, but now they have to spend the rest of their Senior year chemistry partners.





	1. Chapter 1

“Well, it appears the sun has risen once again on our blessed Abigail Adams, my young chemists. Good morning and welcome back from your last Spring Break!”

Riley Matthews felt the familiar sharp stab of a bony elbow her side and turned to her best friend with an exaggerated look, eyebrows raised in questioning.

Maya Hart, beautiful, blonde, and bold, quirked one of her own dainty eyebrows and muttered, “Is he for real?”

Dropping her expression to an endearing smile, Riley rolled her eyes and pointed to the front with her pencil, “Pay attention.”

“-Last project of your high school chemistry careers.” Mr. Hudson was introducing, to be met with a round of cheers from the chunk of Senior class residing at their desks.

Waving, the elder man silenced the crowd, “Please, hold your applause until the end. Now, this last project obviously has to be something to stick in your minds and motivate you all to pursue chemistry in college!”

“Neeever gonna happen,” Maya mumbled for only Riley, resting her chin on her palm and leaning forward.

The brunette bit back a smile and shook her head.

Mr. Hudson continued, “So, I’m gonna let you blow something up.”

Again, the class erupted into cheers and even Maya sat up straight, a smirk playing at her lips.

“Yes, yes! You and a partner will be designing, creating, and lastly igniting your own fireworks.” The teacher barely managed to call across the room of giddy students.

Instinctually, Riley and Maya knotted their arms together. No one around them even glanced over to ask for a team up. Riley Matthews and Maya Hart were only ever not partners when they were forced to go without. It went without saying that this project would be no exception.

…Until Mr. Hudson spoke next.

“Now, everyone get up and sit in alphabetical order by the last name. Whoever you end up next to, you will be spending the rest of the school year with.”

Riley’s heart stuttered, her smile sliding from her face.

_No, no, no! Please, God, no!_

Maya whirled around to look at her, wide-eyed as everyone else began to move around the classroom. She knew exactly why her best friend was still sitting on her original stool, frozen. She knew and yet she still looked slightly…amused?

_Traitor!_

“Ms. Matthews?”

Swallowing, Riley turned to see Mr. Hudson standing beside her (well, she guessed, not anymore) desk.

“Yes?” She squeaked out.

“Is there a problem?”

“…No?”

“Ah, good! Then, I think you’ll find your new seat is over there.” He pointed to a desk a few rows behind Riley. Slowly, the girl turned on her stool to follow the path of his finger.

There, exactly two tables back and one to the left sat a desk with only one boy currently occupying it.

The boy was sitting up, his posture as rigid and awkward as Riley imagined her own was at that moment, and he was fidgeting with the pencil in his hands, whirling it around his long digits expertly.

Farkle _fucking_ Minkus.

His lighter brown hair was styled up in that annoyingly attractive spiked-up way that made it incredibly easy to get a good look at those electric blue eyes. Electric blue eyes that were currently boring back at Riley, cold and calculating and _so damn intense_.

 _God, does he_ _always_ _have to look like he’s plotting my murder?_

Turning back to Mr. Hudson, Riley opened her mouth.

“Nuh-uh, Ms. Matthews. Your partner is your partner, now get moving.” The chemistry teacher grinned and passed her the stack of books that had been sitting before her. He gestured for her to move along.

Pouting at Maya as she passed, Riley ducked her head and trudged back to the table two back and one to the left. She slammed her books on to the desk and dramatically threw herself down onto the stool.

There was a long, long silence and then…

“Impressive display of maturity, Matthews. I’m in awe, truly.”

Narrowing her eyes, Riley spun on the boy and pointed at him, angrily. “Listen here, you don’t talk to me. You don’t look at me. You don’t breathe on me. Do that and we might actually get a decent grade.”

Quirking an eyebrow and otherwise remaining expressionless, “And followed up by a completely rational reaction, not at all excessive. Color me surprised.”

“Shut up, Minkus.” Riley hissed, turning back to the front as Mr. Hudson began to go on about the project.

* * *

The hatred between Riley Matthews and Farkle Minkus began on the very first day of Freshman year.

Riley, bright and shiny with sunlight sown under her skin, had strolled in through the double doors of Abigail Adams High School with high-in-the-sky, apple pie hopes. She’d been the top student at John Quincy Adams Middle School and had been working on her valedictorian speech since her 351st ‘A’.

It was her beginning, the true start of her path to excellence and Ivy League.

Farkle, darker and more empirical with some dents and scratches in the packaging, stumbled through the doors of Abigail Adams because an upperclassman had rammed into him. He’d been bullied and beaten in elementary school, transferring to Einstein Academy the second his parents said he could. He had excelled there, top marks and every teacher’s favorite, and he was ready to keep the momentum going through high school.

Princeton, as his father constantly reminded him, was calling.

Riley hated Farkle from the moment she heard him cursing under his breath in latin while fumbling with his locker combination.

Farkle hated Riley from the moment he watched her recite Pi to the 28th digit when she’d only been asked for the basic 3.14.

The only thing the two seemed able to agree upon was that Abigail Adams was definitely  _not_ big enough for the both of them.

* * *

The bell rang, sharp and shrill, and Riley wasn’t sure if she had ever heard anything as sweet as that sound. It had only been a week since Farkle Minkus had been assigned as her partner and she’d already wanted to kill him more times than she could count.

Shooting to her feet, she scowled and ignored Farkle as he opened his mouth to speak.

Once to the door, Riley took comfort in Maya’s waiting presence.

“Are you okay?” The blonde asked, tugging at the lapels of her combat jacket. There was something in her tone that made Riley shot her a questioning look like she found the brunette’s suffering funny.

“Oh, I’m great, Peaches!” Riley grinned painfully, forcing her cheeks to remain locked. “Why on Earth wouldn’t I be? Because Farkle said that he should take charge on our project because we aren’t ‘writing fanfiction about rainbows and butterflies’ so my expertise aren’t required?”

“Ouch.” Maya frowned.

Riley scoffed, wrenching her locker open, “Or maybe because he turned our work packet in after doing it all alone and without letting me see it?”

“Admittedly unnecessary.”

“Oh, oh! Maybe you think I’m not fine because Farkle insisted on checking my work on balancing our chemical equation for gunpowder and, _fuck_ him by the way, actually found one tiny, little mistake?!” Riley’s voice rose and she slammed her locker back shut, crossing her arms tightly over her chest.

Puckering her lips, Maya eyes widened at her best friend, _Riley Matthews_ , cursing aloud and glanced around to see that the outburst had called the attention of some of their peers.

“Move along, ya stalkers, nothing to see here!” She snapped at two passing freshmen, who immediately cowered away and raced off. She turned back to Riley to speak, only to be interrupted by a third party coming to stand a few feet from them.

Farkle stood with his shoulders slouched, hands shoved in his pockets. Riley noticed his shirt was hanging a little haphazardly and his hair was messier than it’d been just before in the chemistry lab. Meeting those cold, blue eyes, she found them looking worn and tired.

 _Seriously?! What’s the matter with him_ _now_ _?_

“Minkus.”

“Matthews.”

“Can I help you?” Riley asked after Farkle didn’t continue.

He groaned and closed his eyes, leaning his head back, “Help is such a _strong_ word.” Looking back down at her, he pulled a folded packet of papers from his pocket and held it out before him. The previously mentioned work packet. Huh.

“Hudson said that the point of having a partner is working with them and not against them, whatever that means.” Farkle shrugged.

Riley smirked, “So, he could tell that you didn’t let me work on it?”

Farkle just stared at her in response and she was once again struck by how exhausted he looked like he was too tired to even be annoyed by her as usual.

“Well, what do you want me to do about it?” She asked, glancing over at Maya. The blonde was watching the chemistry partners back-and-forth as if they were a tennis match.

“We have to redo it.” He sighed and noticed Riley’s drawn eyebrows, “Like together. It’s due first thing tomorrow, the start of class.”

“Wait, what?!” Riley exclaimed, dropping her arms, “But that means-“

“Meeting up after school, yeah, I _know.”_ Farkle shoved the packet back into his pocket and twitchily tugged at his hair. _So that’s how it was suddenly all messy…_ “Believe me, I’m about as excited as you, Matthews.”

Rolling her eye because the whole situation was _his_ fault, Riley grabbed Maya’s arm and pushed past the boy. She threw over her shoulder, “Whatever. Be at Topanga’s at 5!”

* * *

“So, your mom owns this place, right?”

Riley glanced up from her chemistry textbook to see Farkle inspecting the little cafe. They’d been working for about an hour already in near silence, having created a rotation system where they completed the work and then exchanged it for the other’s approval. It was actually working quite nicely, and now Minkus had to go and _talk_.

Following his gaze, Riley’s chocolate eyes took in the familiar atmosphere of her second home. The scent of coffee and fresh croissants hung in the air, filling her nostrils and heart with nostalgia.

Tapping her pencil against the coil of her notebook, she nodded and returned to working, “My family, yeah.” Scrunching up her face, she amended, “Co-own.”

“It’s nice.”

Riley froze, wondering if she’d heard right. Farkle Minkus had never complimented _anything_ about Riley. Never once in the four years that they had known of the other’s existence. And sure he hadn’t said she was pretty or smart or anything but he’d still said something nice about something dear to her.

_Weird._

“Uh,” Riley slowly meet his eyes, which were now zeroed in on her, “Thank you.”

“I thought your mom was a lawyer? And your dad’s a history teacher. Where does entrepreneurship come into all that?” Farkle asked.

She shifted and blushed, recalling her mother’s attire on the day they had bought half of the cafe and bakery. A small laugh slipped past her lips as she shook her head, “Actually, it was going to go out of business and my mom has this freakish moral compass so she couldn’t let it go down. And it’s Auggie’s favorite.”

“Your little brother?” Farkle nodded, looking down at his hands fiddling on the table before him.

Confused, Riley nodded, “Yeah. How did you-“

Farkle cut her off, shifting in his booth, “Scientists observe.”

“Sort of comes off like stalking.” She quipped without thinking. Oddly, she hadn’t actually meant it as an insult, just a joke, like she’d tease Maya.

And then something even odder happened.

Farkle laughed.

And not like a breezy, cool-guy chuckle either but a _real_ honker, reminiscent of a car alarm.

It was silent for a moment before Riley burst into her own full out, gut busting laughter, bending over the table with tears forming in her eyes.

“Was,” She gasped between giggles, “that your _laugh_?!”

The lingering smile that had befallen the boy’s lip instantly slipped away and he slunk down into the booth, glaring at the table, “Shut up, Matthews.”

Rolling her eyes, Riley half-hearted tried to smother her bubbly laughter, “Oh, don’t pout! It was actually kind of cute.” She shrugged, not realizing what she’d said at first.

Once the words did register in her head and she noticed Farkle freeze across from her, however, she viscously backpedaled with a horrified expression, “Not cute! I mean,” She let out a squeaky attempt at a scoff, “I obviously didn’t mean that _you_ were- I was just-“

Riley forced her mouth shut, her cheeks burning as she looked _anywhere_ but at Farkle Minkus.

Her stomach twisted when after several long, long minutes of returned silence and work, she glanced up to see Farkle looking once again at his fidgeting hands, the corners of his mouth curved into the smallest of smiles.

_Oh fuck…_

* * *

Weeks passed and following the evening at Topanga’s, Riley found that Farkle Minkus wasn’t quite as _unbearable_ as she’d always thought.

 _Nope, that’s not the problem with him anymore…_ She thought, looking up as the boy in question whirled into the chemistry classroom. Like her, he always seemed to prefer arriving long before the bell rang. Her heart hammered as he approached, head down and eyes on his feet, and she smiled to herself as she looked back at her notebook.

In fact, Riley’s new problem with Farkle Minkus was, ironically, just how very, _very_ bearable she was coming to find him.

Sure, she still wanted to throttle him a few times a class period and, yeah _okay_ , she would still never, ever admit aloud that he was probably, maybe, just a little smarter than her but… something had definitely shifted in the last month she’d now been his partner.

Farkle’s usual remarks that once made her blood boil now made Riley bite back smiles, as she slowly began to realize that most of the time the boy wasn’t being intentionally rude, just incredibly socially inept, which was honestly _so_ endearing.

The effort he had begun putting toward their partnership was another thing to draw her in, and while she figured he was probably just committed to a good grade there was a part of her that liked to think maybe he just trusted her opinion more.

And it didn’t really help how damn adorable he was.

Seriously, Riley had always known that Farkle Minkus was objectively attractive; it had once made her even more infuriated with him. It was just different now. Now, she didn’t feel the need to talk herself out of finding him attractive, to talk herself out of ‘observing’ him.

 _Observing him just a scientist would, of course,_ She reasoned. _Taking notes on all his nervous ticks because goddamn the boy could just not sit still. Listing alphabetically the names of the important people in his life that he so very rarely mentioned: Jennifer, Lucas, Smackle, Stuart, Zay. Cataloging into a mental database every expression, every curve of a lip or quirk of an eyebrow._

“Matthews.”

Riley pulled herself from her thoughts and turned to give Farkle a nod in greeting, “Minkus.”

“Your weekend?”

“Good. Yours?”

“The usual.”

This was another new routine for the pair. They now actually asked each other, in their own way, about each other’s lives, weekends, and days. Riley relished the small interaction as it not only made her feel like _just maybe_ her endearment was possibly mutual, but it was also teasing enough about Farkle’s life to satisfy her mounting curiosity.

Farkle’s cell phone, set face up on the table between them, buzzed and the screen lit up with a text.

**From Jennifer Bassett Minkus: You are not the center of my universe, Farkle.**

A pause and then a second buzz and text.

**From Jennifer Bassett Minkus: Call your father or get over it.**

The boy, who’d been busy hanging up his jacket and backpack on the back of his stool, dropped the bag to the floor and scrambled to grab the cell phone. Shoving it hastily into his pocket, he cleared his throat and rubbed the back of his neck.

 _Another nervous tick._ Riley noted before what she’d just seen really registered. Her eyebrows drew together as Farkle silently took his seat and kept his head bent.

Jennifer Bassett Minkus, Riley knew from the limited data she had, was Farkle’s mother. Riley had seen the tall, gorgeous, intimidating blonde a few times over the years, walking next to her son in the hall at teacher conferences or whispering on her cell phone in the back row at debates. She’d seemed okay, even if a little terrifying.

Still, her words, seared into Riley’s brain in Helvetica font, seems so harsh. She couldn’t imagine ever having her own mother or father speak to her so brutally.

Thinking for a long moment, Riley swallowed hard and turned to Farkle before she could talk herself out of her next action, “Is everything okay, Farkle?”

His pencil paused mid-word and his eye flickered over to her before he pressed on, “It’s rude to look at other people’s texts.”

“Scientists observe.” Riley countered with an echo of the boy’s own previous statement and kept her gaze and voice steady.

That made him stop his writing.

Farkle remained bent over his paper for a moment before spinning himself around to come face-to-face with the pretty brunette. Like, _really, really_ face-to-face. Like, with how close he was and how those intense, magnetic, electric blue eyes seemed to be taking in every inch of her face, Riley struggled to remember her original question or even the fact that she was current in chemistry and supposed to be copying the notes from the board.

But who would ever be able to think with someone looking at them like _that_? Like she was a nearly complete theorem that would unravel the mysteries of the stars. Like she was a riddle that he, for whatever reason, was positively _desperate_ to solve.

Swallowing hard, Farkle looked away after a second, after an eternity, and yet Riley still felt completely out of sorts. She blinked several times and, like her partner, returned to copying notes.

“Topanga’s at 5.”

Riley didn’t acknowledge Farkle’s words. Somehow she knew she didn’t have to. He already knew she’d come.

* * *

Riley rushed into Topanga’s twenty minutes late and feeling incredibly guilty. Her father always had to stay after school on Wednesdays for bus duty, but this Wednesday her mother also had to work late unexpectedly and had needed her to keep an eye on Auggie until one of them could get home.

She’d practically run from the apartment the moment her father walked in. It wasn’t like she had Farkle’s number to explain and she was worried that he’d give up on waiting for her.

But there he was, sitting at their usual booth, and of course fiddling with his hands.

Riley flung herself down across from him, an apology already on her lips, “Farkle, I am-“

“Matthews.”

“-SO sorry! I swear I didn’t-“

“Matthews.”

“-Mean to leave you waiting. It’s just-“

“Matthews!” Farkle snapped, expression exaggerated and a little bemused.

Riley slammed her mouth shut, a light blush spreading across her face. Looking at the table, her stomach dropped. Farkle’s chemistry book and notebook were open and resting on the surface, obviously being actively utilized. “Oh no! I forgot my stuff!”

“Huh?” Farkle looked confused for a moment before he followed her gaze, “Um, actually, I just had these out while I was waiting, you know, for you.” He shrugged without meeting her eye and reached out to slam the textbook shut.

“Oh.”

Riley blushed more and worried at her lower lip, becoming very interested in her cuticles.

So, Farkle didn’t want to meet for their project… she hadn’t let herself really hope that he just wanted to spend time with her, just wanted to maybe talk to her. But now it seemed the logical conclusion and Riley tried to always be logical.

She waited for Farkle to begin, only he didn’t. He remained silent, slouching in his seat, and rubbing the back of his neck.

Apprehension began to creep into the girl’s bones. She’d never been alone with Farkle Minkus for any reason other than school work and she didn’t really know what to expect. Was this just how he was socially? He had friends, right?

_Yeah, Lucas Friar and Zay Babineaux. They’re one mix-match threesome, but they are definitely friends._

Well, then maybe Farkle just didn’t want to talk after all. So, why ask her here? Why wait for her when she didn’t come on time?

_Why?_

_Oh god, what if she’d been imagining his increasing kindness? What if he hadn’t changed his mind about her after all? What if he hadn’t changed his mind but had realized she’d changed her’s? What if he was now just messing with her, laughing at her?_

Taking a deep breath, the girl made herself sit up as a display of completely false confidence and narrowed her eyes at the genius across from her, “Look, Minkus, if you just asked me here to mess with me-“

“Mess with you?” Farkle echoed, his head snapping up at an alarming speed, eyes wide.

Riley raised her eyebrows at him skeptically and gestured around them.

He shook his head, quickly, “For once, Matthews, I am honestly not _trying_ to mess with you.”

Looking at him long and hard, Riley sighed and relaxed back into her seat. “So, what are you trying to do, then?”

“ _Talk_ to you, obviously.” He stated like she was stupid for not already knowing. She did not appreciate the tone.

“Then _talk_.”

“Well, shit, Matthews, why didn’t I think of that? They certainly aren’t joking about you being the second in our class.” Farkle snapped, his eyes cold in a way Riley had honestly forgotten they could be. Her chest tightened as his words and gaze cutting into her.

“Oh, yeah, I am _so_ out of here!” She frantically slid out of the booth and started toward the door only to feel a hand grasp her arm, firm but gentle. She didn’t have to, but she followed the limb back up to the boy it belonged to, not saying a word.

Farkle, who always seemed to shy away, who always seemed so indecisive down to the way he couldn’t pick one position to keep his body in, who infuriated and yet enthralled her, stared at her with steady and certain eyes.

“Wait, I shouldn’t have said that,” He paused and let her arm go, “It was wrong.”

Drawing herself up, Riley nodded, “It was.” Then she stepped back and slipped back into the booth across from him, “But I’m going to let it go and give you another chance.”

Farkle laughed but it wasn’t the cute, real laugh Riley had heard that one evening in this same spot. This was hallowed and humorless. She wasn’t a fan. “Why? It’s not like I’ve ever really given you a reason to be nice to me.”

“I don’t believe that kindness should require a reason,” Riley said, simply.

Coming from anyone, _anyone_ , else the statement would have sounded like complete bullshit. But this was Riley Matthews and Farkle had hated her from afar long enough to know that she really was _just that idealistic._ It was absolutely puzzling to him.

“You might want to start the talking, though. Wouldn’t want to waste my generosity.”

He found himself flickering his gaze back up to Riley without thinking. She was doodling with her finger on the table, a teasing and genuine smile playing on her lips.

_So what? She’s nice, that’s great but it doesn’t mean she’ll ever understand. Go ahead, pour your heart out, cry her a river, it won’t change a damn thing._

Farkle looked back down at his hands and sighed, tugging at his hair. “So, my parents aren’t really home a lot…”

And no, he didn’t pour his heart out or cry a river, but he did talk.

He shared with Riley Matthews things that very few people knew, things Farkle had previously only chosen to willingly share with Lucas and Zay and over time Smackle.

He explained how business kept his father away nearly constantly, how his mother took this as permission to never be around either because the money they had obviously needed spending, and how it was really better that way because it was _never_ good when they were both home.

When he finished, he fished his phone from his pocket and flipped it over and over in his hands. “So, that was the text you saw. The academic honor awards for the senior class are next week and when I brought it up, my mom reminded me that I am not…”

“-The center of her universe.” Riley finished, her voice wavering slightly. She shook her head, “She shouldn’t have said that. That ceremony is where they introduce you as valedictorian before graduation and I’m sure you’ve earned more awards than just that this year. You worked hard and you _deserve_ it, she should acknowledge that!”

Quirking an eyebrow, Farkle gave Riley a look, “Matthews, did you just say that I _deserve_ valedictorian?”

A grin broke out across the girl’s face and she shook her head, giggling and not even bothering to try and cover up her obvious affection, “Shut up, Minkus.”

“Hey, Matthews?”

“Hmm?”

“Thanks, you’re actually not the worst person to talk to.”

“And you’re actually not the worst person to listen to.”

* * *

**OKAY WOW, this turned into a total monster!!! I did not mean for this to get so intense and long and crazy. I have decided that I’m going to end this here, with this little hint of _something_ hanging in the air between our favorite duo. However, I am thinking of a 2nd part if people are interested? Maybe actually explore this version of Riley and Farkle becoming real friends… maybe more? Would anyone like that?**


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided to keep on this one because I just loved it so much!!!! So, this is the official announcement that The Electronic Configuration of Hate and Love will be a book instead of a one or two shot as originally planned. I actually already have the plot laid out and everything so…

Riley Matthews was _not_ his friend.

She really wasn't.

Because Farkle Minkus could never be friends with someone _like her_. 

She was just so fucking entitled, with her decent looks, social easy, and (admittedly) impressive intelligence, not to mention that having her father as one of their teachers did her attitude no favors either. 

And that waltz she always seemed to have? The inherent skip in her step? It made his skin crawl.

Or rather, it usually did…

She was also astoundingly naive and so damn idealistic. No one had disillusioned her yet, explained to her that people actually weren't always born good and sometimes bad shit just happens to people who don't deserve it. Speaking to her was like talking to a child and Farkle didn't have the patience for it. 

Growing up in his household, patience was definitely _not_ a virtue.

Yet, he supposed that she wasn't exactly his enemy anymore.

Something had changed in the last few weeks and even in his infinite stubbornness, Farkle had to admit that he might not exactly _hate_ Riley Matthews anymore. No, he didn't really mind her most of the time nowadays... Possibly even liked her a little bit here and there.

So, Riley Matthews was not his friend. But she wasn't his enemy, either. She was something _else._ Something on the tip of Farkle's tongue that he couldn't quite recall but also wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to dwell on long enough to come up with it. 

Not that it was a big deal or anything. 

Because it wasn’t. 

It was Riley _fucking_ Matthews and Farkle could never be friends with someone like her.

That was what was running through Farkle Minkus’ mind, at least, as his gaze followed the subject in question as she crossed the cafeteria with Maya Hart by her side.

“Pretty girl, huh?” Lucas spoke up, elbowing him in the ribs as he also watched the girls take their seats.

Farkle dropped his eyes to the apple in his hand. No way in hell was he going to eat it; it was practically mush, but he didn't like his best friend’s gloating tone. 

He rolled his eyes, “Is that all you see when you look at a girl? How pretty she is?”

Zay, sitting across from the duo, had turned incredibly conspicuously in his chair to see what the fuss was. “Uh, if I’m looking at Maya Hart? Yeah, man.” He took a bite of his own mushy apple, “She’s hot.”

“What else am I exactly supposed to look at? I don’t really know Maya.” Lucas countered, gearing up for a good, old fashion, Minkus-Friar debate.

“First of all, Maya Hart? Wasn’t looking at her.” Farkle shook his head and leaned back in his seat. 

“And next, you don’t need to know someone personally to learn about them. _Scientists observe_.” He repeated, Lucas and Zay echoing along to the last sentence in annoyance from the number of times they’d heard it before. 

Farkle pressed on, regardless. “They watch patterns, monitor behaviors, track consistencies. You see a hot blonde but I see someone who never leaves the side of her closest companion, who probably has a harder home life because she always takes extra at lunch, and who fails almost every written test but can answer most questions in a classroom discussion.”

“So basically, she's loyal, little cynical, and averagely smart.” Sitting up with an eyebrow quirked in triumph, Farkle drummed his apple on the tabletop, “Lastly, and again, _Maya Hart_?”

“You know what?” Lucas challenged, trying to sound annoyed but the effect was lost to the amusement clear in his expression. “Fuck you, Farkle. Fuck you on two counts because seriously, how do you do that? And also because Maya Hart _is_ hot, even you can’t deny that.”

Farkle chuckled, leaning over the table a bit with a casual shrug, “She’s okay.”

“Wait, wait, wait!” Zay threw a hand up, “If you weren’t staring at Maya Hart than who-“

Again the boy spun in his chair and Farkle inwardly groaned, slouching back into his seat. He crossed his arms over his chest and tried to ignore the way the tips of his ears were warming. Why would he be blushing? He had _nothing_ to be embarrassed by.

Zay whirled back round, mouth agape and uneaten apple in plain sight. _Charming. Really._  

“Wiley Maffhews?!” He exclaimed through the food.

Lucas cocked his head to the side, taking in the girl beside the ‘blonde beauty’, before turning to a glaring Farkle. “But you hate her?”

“Yeah, every time you see her, you start muttering about pie?” Zay suppled after swallowing.

“Pi.” Farkle corrected, instinctually, before hardening his gaze and giving both his friends scathing looks. “And I’m perfectly aware of how I feel about Riley Matthews, thanks.” He sighed, “She’s my chemistry partner, that’s all. And she may be getting to me… But just a bit!”

“Damn, you must _really_ hate her. Usually you don’t admit when things bug you.” Lucas lightly punched Farkle’s shoulder, glancing between his friend and the brunette giggling across the cafeteria.

Zay nodded, “Yeah, you’re just an asshole about it.”

“Why am I friends with you guys, again?” The genius asked, eyeing both boys.

“See?” Zay gestured to Farkle’s whole being, “Like that!”

* * *

“Matthews.”

“Minkus!” 

_Okay, did she really have to sound so excited to see him? It’s still just fucking chemistry._ Farkle wondered even as something warm blossomed in his chest. 

It has been a bad idea to talk to Riley about his parents, he had concluded the day after he’d done so. It was like she thought they had some _connection_ now or something. He’d just been trying to prevent her from meddling in his life, not make her think they were somehow _closer_ than before. 

Because they weren’t. 

“Guess what?” Riley asked, turning on her stool to face him.

Oh, and they were doing _that_ thing now? Well okay…

“What?” Farkle answered to placate her, keeping his head down and flipping needlessly through his notebook.

Whatever hints he was trying to drop, honestly he wasn’t even sure, Riley definitely did not pick up on them. Her grin only seemed to widen, if possible, as she reached out and rested a hand on his shoulder. 

Her grip was tight with enthusiasm and odd but not entirely unwelcome. Pin pricks seemed to rise up on his skin through the sleeve of his t-shirt under the pressure. His gaze came up to rest on her perfectly manicured fingertips, eyebrows drawn in confusion as she rambled on. 

“Last night I got an email from Columbia confirming my enrollment! I am officially going to be a student at Columbia University in the fall!” She practically squealed at the end, those manicure nails digging into his arm. 

Farkle rolled his eyes, biting back the smile trying to fight its way on to his face, “That’s generally what confirming an enrollment means, Matthews.”

“I know that, silly! I’m just so excited!” Riley snatched her hand back to clap and bounce in her seat. Without permission, a light chuckle slipped past Farkle’s lips as he watched her, practically feeling the excitement radiating from her.

_God, she’s adorable._

_Wait, what? No! No, she was not. Absolutely not!_

Dropping his smile, Farkle turned back to glare at his own wiry handwriting sprawled across the pages of his notebook. As if _those_ were the thoughts that offended him and not the ones still locked in his brain.

“I’m just shocked you managed at Ivy League, Matthews. I always pegged you for a community college or maybe NYU.” He grumbled.

Riley stopped bouncing, hands still raised mid-clap. Her grin, always so infectious and genuine, slipped away to be replaced by a much less contagious but equally genuine look of hurt. 

Slowly, she folded her hands in her lap and turned back to the front of the class right as Mr. Hudson came cruising into the room.

Farkle finally started to relax with her big, brown eyes off him when he heard her hiss, “You are _such_ an asshole.”

“So I've been told.” He countered, remaining expressionless.

The reply easily rolled off his tongue, but the guilt continued to roll around in his gut long after chemistry. The hurt on Riley’s face didn’t settle on his shoulder quite the way it normally did. There wasn’t any satisfaction in raining on her parade anymore…

Maybe she really was getting to him.

* * *

Farkle thumbed through his copy of _The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks_ as the subway soared through the underground. Music played in the background of his mind from the earbuds he’d popped in after leaving Abigail Adams. Unfortunately, he couldn’t seem to focus on the lyrics anymore than he could the words on the pages.

His eyes burned from tiredness but he’d already found that no amount of blinking would do him any good. This was a weariness deep within his bones. An exhaustion that took time to cultivate, layering and layering until it fit like a second skin.

Calling it quits, he hastily dog-eared the page he’d been on, earning a glare from the bookish girl a few seats down, and shoved the novel back into his bag. 

Crossing his arms over his chest, he laid his head back against the cool glass of the window. Light flickered sporadically throughout the cart as the train barreled through the tunnel and Farkle fought to keep his eyes open and his mind awake. Falling asleep on the subway was a basic no-no to any New Yorker, but he was just _so tired._

The cell phone in his pocket felt heavier than usual, it’s weight on his leg like a brick. The text he’d gotten as he boarded the subway had equal weight on his mind. 

**From Stuart Minkus: Your mother will be here when you get home. We’re having a family dinner. Play nice.**

_Play nice? What the hell did that even mean?_

Farkle wondered and drummed his thumb against his thigh. It wasn’t like he was ever _not nice_ to his mother. He wasn’t even disrespectful, in his own opinion, that just wasn’t how she saw things.

Since the day he’d been born, Farkle had been Stuart Minkus’ son. 

Not just biologically, because obviously, but in identity. Sure, his name was ridiculous but he wore it proudly because he shared it with his father, the man who’d built an empire. 

His father was someone important who did important things. It was one of the first facts that Farkle knew with complete certainty, even when he was just a toddler teetering around the top floors of Minkus International.

Sure, his father was almost always absence in his life but that came with being so important. Stuart had things to do, people to see. 

Still, Farkle had spent most nights of his childhood staying up until dawn just to say a quick hello. Just to get a glance of what it was that his father gave everything to. 

There was a need to please ingrained deep in his system, to earn his father’s approval.

That was not the case with Jennifer and it never had been.

Farkle had a running theory that his mother viewed him as a black hole. Before he was even eight, Farkle had learned that _Everything, Farkle! You just ruin everything!_ and he’d learn it from his mother. 

Apparently, she’d been a country club, homecoming queen with a trust fund and bright future all _before_ she’d gotten knocked up on the second date — not that his parents would ever admit that but he could do the basic math of their September wedding and his April arrival.

He’d put the rest of the story together on his own over the years. 

Barely ten minutes after the pregnancy test turned positive mom had been disowned by her family and frantically tacking ‘Minkus' onto her last name with a precious, little parasite multiplying its cells in her uterus… Or at least that’s how she’d put it to one of her housewife friends one afternoon when she’d been drinking wine from a box and forgotten Farkle was coming home early from school to see the ophthalmologist.

Basically, Jennifer Bassett had been a massive star and the birth of her son marked the end of her life cycle. He was the black hole formed from her collapse. His existence had taken not only her life from her, but her potential, her opportunities, the very light in her soul. He’d absorbed them and destroyed them just like a black hole.

Farkle figured that was why the woman seemed to avoid him like the plague and treated him with nothing but resentment when she was around. Maybe she loved him, maybe she didn’t, these days Farkle couldn’t bring himself to care either way. 

Love had never been something he’d craved anyway. 

It was an illogical fallacy, after all. An unproven hypothesis for those too desperately lonely to be left to their own devices when facing the bleakness of life head on.

_Fuck,_ he was so tired he was getting poetic. _Never a good sign_.

And he’d closed the door on his mommy and daddy issues long ago, so why was he dwelling on them again now all of the sudden? On the subway, of all places?

Probably because Riley _fucking_ Matthews had come along and knocked on that damn door.

Farkle sat up straight and ran a hand down his face. 

Whatever. It didn’t matter, he was going to have to face dinner with his parents either way. Awkward, suffocating, it was like playing a role he knew his mother and father preferred. It was easier having a successful, bright son after all than living in the gravitational pull of a black hole.

* * *

It was even worse than Farkle had thought it would be. And that was saying something.

The teenager threw himself down into his bed, groaning as he slowly relaxed. His whole body had been tense for the last hour and a half and even the relief ached. He reached up, tugging at his hair and thinking back over the events of the so-called 'family dinner'.

It hadn't been a family dinner, first of all.

Farkle had been bombarded by his father from the moment he'd stepped out of their private elevator and apparently _Marty and Helen Coleman were having dinner with them._ He'd barely suppressed an eye roll at the news because the Coleman’s were even more insufferable than Riley Matthews on a good day.

They were old Princeton friends of his father's and Marty was on the board of admissions still. Farkle had been pulled aside by his father the first day he met Marty and told that 'they could use the leg up' to get him accepted. 

It had stung that his father didn't think he could get into Princeton on merit and capability alone, that he thought Farkle needed connections and favors. But Farkle always did as his father told him. Even if it meant playing nice with a corporate asshole like Marty Coleman and his stuck-up wife.

As they sat to talk about Farkle's 'promising future', the boy took note that his mother was nowhere in sight. A part of him sighed in relief while a smaller piece twitched in annoyance. Wasn't the point of the dinner that, for once, both she and Stuart were home?

Luckily however, Jennifer Bassett Minkus appeared just in time for the merlot. A small detail which didn't really surprise her husband or son and went unnoticed by their guests. She easily fell into her well-rehearsed role of loving wife and doting mother, holding Stuart's hand and even reaching over once to ruffle Farkle's hair.

"Our baby boy sure is exceptional." She grinned with teeth as white as her lies.

Farkle bit his cheek and faked a smile to the table top, playing with his hands. The tremble from his irritation was barely noticeable, he noted with sarcastic pride.

Helen laughed, one of those big ones that just came off as practiced. "Well, with such great influences, how could he not be?"

_Ah, irony._

Farkle and irony were old buddies.

"So, Farkle, you still set on Princeton next fall?" Marty questioned, pushing the broccoli around his plate. Had Farkle tried to have pulled that, he'd have been snapped at to stop playing with his food… or, if his father had noticed, made to name all of the nutrients in each piece.

The teenager nodded, "Of course, sir. Princeton is the dream."

"Just like his old man," Stuart said, clapping his son on the back. "Farkle was officially named valedictorian about a week ago and his test scores are impeccable. Kid's gonna give me a run for my money one of these days."

And yet he could still 'use the leg up’… Sure.

Anyway, the dinner ended up feeling more like a job interview. 

What were his goals? 

His strengths? Weaknesses? 

Where did he see himself in ten years?

His parents and the Coleman’s did realize he’d only been 18 for two weeks, right? Sure, in _fucking middle school_ he’d thought he’d rule the world but things changed. He had realized quickly how easily someone could topple you from your high horse, how exhausting it was to be on point _every_ second of _every_ day, to never let it all in…

Really, all the dinner had done was remind Farkle Minkus of both just how uncertain his future really was and yet how little choice he had in it.

Farkle shot into an upright position on the edge of his mattress, bouncing one leg and drumming his cell phone against the thigh of the other. Suddenly, he felt incredibly restless and wired. Running a hand down his face, he thought about maybe texting Zay or calling Lucas, maybe even video chatting Smackle.

The problem was that he didn’t really want to do any of those things.

His legs twitched more sporadically and it felt like his skin was crawling.

What he wanted was to move.

Jumping up, he grabbed the jacket from the back of his desk chair and practically flew across the room to his door. Slipping down the hall to the private elevator, Farkle glanced over his shoulder in the direction of the muffled yelling from his parents. 

Maybe he should tell him he was leaving; it was what most responsible teenagers did, right?

Without pausing in his stride, Farkle stepped into the elevator and pushed the button for the ground floor, not even seeing his mother or father before the doors slide closed. 

He pulled at his hair as he moved through the lobby and waved to the doorman in passing before stepped out into the chilly night air of New York. A perk of being further north in the spring, Farkle thought.

He veered to the left, not really having any idea where he wanted to go or really caring as long as it was no longer the top floor of Minkus International.

When had _his own home_ become so suffocating?

His ceiling was a planetarium and his bedroom alone was the size of some small apartments; he had more space than he knew what to do with. 

So, why did it feel like the residence was slowly running out of oxygen, filling more and more with carbon monoxide with each passing? The ratio was all off and it made his head feel dizzy even as it pounded.

Farkle didn’t know how long he was walking before he came to stand before Topanga’s, hands stuffed into his pockets. Somehow, in all of New York, he ended up at the cafe _her_ family owned.

Standing at the railing, he could see the glowing ‘OPEN’ sign and, just behind it, Riley Matthews sitting at the corner booth and tucking cutlery into paper napkins. 

She looked…nice and happy, Farkle guessed.

She was smiling warmly and nodding, glancing to the side now and then to say something to her mother behind the counter, that curly brown hair cascading over her shoulder each time. Her younger brother was on one of the cozy chairs, occasionally tossing an opinion over his shoulder to the women. They would both just roll their eyes, Riley’s chocolate ones always looking more amused than annoyed. And even Mr. Matthews was there, sitting across from his daughter and grading papers.

They looked like whatever it was his family always tried to look like.

Clenching the railing until it hurt a little, Farkle felt something cold and bitter in his chest. 

Riley just had to have everything, didn’t she? The personality, the looks, the loving family, and the perfect grades. How exactly was he supposed to _not_ hate her?

As he watched, Riley’s eyes flickered over her father’s shoulder and to the window, to him. 

Her smile remained, only her eyebrows creasing together. They watched each other for a long moment and Farkle felt something completely different flicker to life in his chest. Something like fire, catching in his lungs and tightening his muscles until they too burned. 

Riley’s gaze shifted back down and she slid from the booth, causing Farkle’s stomach to drop.

He was suddenly extremely aware that he’d just been standing there and watching her like a _fucking stalker,_ and only after being a total dick to her just earlier that day. So, now he was going to have to face the music of that snappy voice and ‘resting bitch face’ as Zay deemed it.

Riley stopped to say something to her father, resting a hand on his shoulder, before bouncing over to the door. She grabbed a jacket and pulled it on as she pushed her away outside, stopping to stand a few feet from the door as it slowly shut behind her. She looked up at him, still on the stairs and still painfully gripping the railing.

“You look at little like your detoxing.” Riley said after a long moment of silence.

Farkle cocked his head to the side, “I might be feeling a little on edge.”

Her eyebrows drew closer together and she took another step forward, looking down at her boots, “Is everything okay, Farkle?”

Why did she have to do that? Ask like that? Like she cared? Why, why, why on Earth would she care? She didn’t even want to breathe the same air as him a few weeks ago! He hated her, but so what, because she hated him, too, right?

So, _why_? 

It was _infuriating_ to him that there was no equation or textbook that he could turn to for the answers on Riley Matthews. With little to now options left, he just narrowed his eyes at her and shrugged, collapsing down to sit on the cement steps. 

Riley bit the inside of her cheek and paused a second before moving to stand before him at the bottom of the stairs. Her hands were folded in front of her, those ever-smiling rosebud lips downcast to form a steady frown. Her eyes scanned over at him from up close and she shifted on her feet.

“Is…” She seemed to hesitate before powering on, “Is it your parents?”

Farkle’s hung head shot up, hand in his hair, looking bewildered. Maybe he didn’t give Riley Matthews enough credit because apparently she was much more preceptive than he’d ever thought.

It was all the answer Riley needed. 

With a nod, she came to stand less than a foot from him, raising her eyebrows expectantly and nudging his knee with her hand, “Well, move over!”

Since he hated her, he _probably_ should have just told her to _fuck off_ but Farkle found himself sliding to make room for the girl instead. She positioned herself directly next to him on the step, their shoulders brushing from the narrowness of the railings. 

Clapping her hands together, Riley turned her head to him and gave him a look, “Are we really going to do this who uncomfortable silence thing again? Just _talk,_ Minkus! I'm only trying to help!”

“Yeah, but, why?” He asked before he could stop himself. He _had_ to know, as a scientist he could only seek answers to life’s mysteries.

“What do you mean ‘why’?” She asked, resting her elbows on her knees and leaning forward.

“Well, Matthews, I thought I was ‘ _such_ an asshole’.”

The corners of Riley’s mouth flickered and she bit her lip, shaking her head, “And _you_ are. But luckily for you, _I_ am not.”

Farkle’s finally let his eyes roamed over her as she examined her hands closely. 

Her every edge looked so soft, like a glow encased her and made it impossible for him to sharpen his focus when viewing her so directly. Like the sun… or maybe a quasar, what the scientific community agreed was the brightest point of light in the known universe.

“No, you're not.” The second he said it, he wanted to club himself over the head. 

Riley froze at his words.

_What the utter fuck is wrong with you, Minkus?_

He silently prayed to the god he didn’t believe in that she would just let it slip, let it go. He should have known better, though, because Riley Matthews didn’t let things go. She poked and prodded, meddled and schemed. 

Slowly, she turned her head to him and leaned in closer, something Farkle would have thought impossible a moment before with how tightly they were already packed. But suddenly he couldn’t think at all because, _goddamn, the girl was practically just inches from him_ and staring right into his soul, as if she truly believed he had one.

“Have you ever read Robert Frost?” Riley asked in a hushed tone, her open gaze flickering over his face before settling on his electric eyes. “Fire and Ice?”

Numbly, he shook his head, recalling somewhere in the back of his mind the cool, icy hatred he’d been encased in at seeing Riley with her perfect life and family and how quickly he’d thawed just under weight of her warm scrutiny.

She licked her lips and Farkle couldn’t help but just glance, just flicker, down to her mouth. 

For some reason, the sight made it hard to swallow as he forced himself back to her eyes. 

“ ** _Some say the world will end in fire, some say in ice. From what I’ve tasted of desire,_** ” She paused and maybe he was crazy but he thought she might have glanced down at his own lips before continuing, “ ** _I hold with those who favor fire. But if it had to perish twice_** ,” 

Riley then wrenched her gaze from him, looking out at the little patio in front of Topanga’s while still whispering, only quicker, and playing with her hands, “ ** _I think I know enough of hate to say that for destruction ice is also great and would suffice._** ”

Smiling a little, she stood and turned to face him. Her arms crossed over her chest, one hand moving up to tuck her hair behind her ear as she watched her shuffling feet, “Maybe that’ll help you understand _why_ , Farkle.”

And then Riley turned and slipped back inside of Topanga’s without another word to him. 

Farkle followed her movements, watching as she seemed to melt right back into her family with ease and feeling even more restless and wired than he had when he’d set out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, wow! Like, soooo much sexual tension and I, like, wasn’t even planning on that! Like, holy shit! Fire and Ice is my favorite Robert Frost and I thought it was very appropriate for this pair… In this story, I’ve kind of established science as Farkle’s things, but english and literature is definitely Riley’s. I always head-canon Riley as a writer, to be honest, because of the Girl Meets 1961 and Rosie McGee being one.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I’m debating… This story is currently rated T in most posted locations but in working on my plan for the story, I realized that I wanted to bring more adult subject matter, like sex, drinking, partying into it. So my question is, keep the story T and warn about the more M chapter (it’ll still never be graphic or like smut cuz I can’t) or bump the rating up to M?

She liked him.

Riley wasn't too such of too many things in that moment, frozen in time with Farkle on the steps leading to Topanga’s.

But she was sure of one and that was that she _really_ liked him. Like, the couldn’t-think-straight, couldn’t-talk-right, couldn’t-look-away-from-him kind of liked him. It was a flame in her chest, flickering in time to the beat of her heart. A burning desire, as Robert Frost had said, to feel _more_ , touch _more_. 

_When the hell had that even happened?_

She hadn’t a clue but it was as undeniable to her now as the sky being blue or grass being green.

Riley Matthews liked Farkle Minkus and as much, much more than a potential friend, or a real friend, or even a possible best friend. _Not as any kind of just-friend._

Laying in bed that night, she stared up at the ceiling and let her mind wonder as far as the stars outside of her bay window. It was completely ridiculous, totally unfounded, and one-hundred percent useless to think about, but she couldn’t help but imagine a world where maybe Farkle didn’t despise her.

A world where they were maybe real friends. He could listen to her without feeling the need to make some dumb quip and she could finally relax around him. They wouldn’t always seem to be walking on eggshells, dancing around _something_ that was probably really nothing.

But that was the question that really kept Riley awake.

If there was nothing, if all the attraction and tension was in her head, then why on Earth had Farkle Minkus come to her in a moment of need? And why had he looked at her standing over him like she was some saving grace?

Riley didn’t fall asleep until the sun had already started to come up.

* * *

The next day, Riley stepped into Abigail Adams High School filled to the brim with nervous, giddy energy. Her cheeks felt rosy and warm as she trailed alongside Maya, a smile in her brown eyes but a little reluctance in her pace.

The pair made their way across the hall to their neighboring lockers.

"Maya?"

"Yeah, Riles?" 

Riley glanced down at the books in her arms and then back up at her blonde friend who was still shifting through her messier locker. "Have you ever liked someone when you know you shouldn't?"

Maya smirked and slammed her locker closed, winking at the brunette, "Uncle Boing, remember? God, sometimes it's like you don't know me at all!"

"Well, if you know you shouldn't like him than why do you keep chasing him?"

"I am _not_ chasing him!"

"Maya! Just answer me!"

"Why?"

"Because-" Riley faltered, sputtering, "Because I'm, um, just curious."

Maya narrowed her eyes on her friend before something seemed to catch her eye from over the girl's shoulder. She did a double take, making Riley snap around in curiosity. 

Farkle Minkus was making his way down the hall, hands in his pockets, and talking to Lucas Friar. He didn't seem to notice the girls watching him, not even glancing their way as he continued his joking and found his own locker.

That was the time when Riley would usually grumble some complaint but she didn’t. Instead, she found herself frozen to the ground beneath her feet, the school hallway fading to a grayscale against the contrast of electric blue eyes and warm, pale skin. 

A corner of Riley’s lips upturned as she observed Farkle break into that oh-so-rare grin that actually illuminated the room whenever he broke it out. In her chest, that burning fire seemed to flare to life once again. The fire that only Farkle could spark, boiling her blood and smoking out her coherent thoughts.

Lucas slapped his friend on the back before both turned in sync to an approaching Zay Babineaux.

A smack to her own shoulder made Riley jump as she whirled back around to a gaping Maya, “What?!”

Maya covered her mouth, a laugh still escaping from her fingers, “Farkle?”

Riley’s eyes widened and she coughed, hammering on her own chest, “I, I have no idea what you’re talking about, Peaches! Honestly-“

“Thunder.” The blonde exclaimed, holding out her ringed finger with a pointed look.

The brunette groaned, running her hand down her face before dropping to link her finger with Maya’s. “Lightening,”

The two girls’ gazes met and Riley swallowed, glancing over her shoulder where Farkle was still joking with his friends. Turning back to Maya, she pleadingly hissed, “You can’t tell anyone!”

“Like I ever would? Seriously, Honey,” Maya rolled her eyes before a crease formed in her forehead, “Wait, _he’s_ why you asked about liking someone you know you shouldn’t?” When Riley didn’t answer and instead started off towards homeroom, Maya simply kept going, “Why shouldn’t you like him? He’s smart, tall, some would say ‘cute’…”

The blonde trailed off, noticing her friend’s forlorn expression, “Okay, what am I missing? Why do you look like someone just kicked your puppy?”

“Who would ever do should a thing!?”

“Riley.”

The brunette sighed, finding her usual seat in their shared homeroom before turning to Maya beside her. She glanced around like she was discussing a covert operation and not just some guy before speaking. Her voice held something powerful, emotional, that Maya hadn’t been prepared for.

“I shouldn’t like him because he’s never going to see me that way.” Riley shrugged, looking down at her shaky hands, “He hates me and even if he didn’t, what would be the point in starting anything? He’s going to Princeton next year and I have Columbia so…”

Maya broke in, “So, you’re not even going to try?”

Riley gave her a look from the corner of her eye, “He _hates_ me, Maya.”

The blonde rolled her eyes as the teacher came in. The bell rang but she still leaned over to Riley to whisper, “Trust me, I really don’t think he does.”

* * *

_Yeah, well, Maya had no fucking clue what she was talking about._ Riley thought darkly about halfway through Chemistry. By that time she was just watching the hands on the clock crawl closer and closer to the bell.

Whatever moment Farkle and she had had was most definitely over. 

He'd made that incredibly clear the second he'd arrived, completely ignoring her meek 'hello' along with the rest of her existence. Since then, the class had crawled by as Riley tried to keep herself from doing something stupid, like screaming at the boy or crying in frustration.

Or snap over something that normally didn’t bother her.

But the nonstop tapping of Farkle’s pencil against his notebook was grinding on her very last nerve. It was all she could hear, making it impossible to focus on the lecture Mr. Hudson was attempting to give.

Groaning in frustration, Riley reached over and placed her hand over Farkle’s. She closed her eyes and sighed in the relief of silence before turning her head to face the inevitable music.

Farkle was glaring at her, glancing between her profile and their linked hands. At least he had finally acknowledged her?

The girl flushed, feeling electricity surge up her arm from the cells in contact with the ill-tempered genius, and tried to remain steady as she hissed, “ _What_ is your problem?”

“Currently,” Farkle started, narrowing his eyes, “You are.”

Riley stared at him, offended and dumbfounded for a moment before she also glared, “Too damn bad, _partner_.”

The boy scoffed and jerked his hand back in a completely unnecessary display of dramatics. Riley was just thinking about how shocking it was that Mr. Hudson hadn’t noticed their quarrel yet when something thin and bright red caught her eye. 

It was a letter, written on a paper under Farkle’s notebook, previously tucked carefully out of sight and brought to light when he’d gone full diva.

It was a D.

Riley’s eyebrows furrowed and she looked back up at Farkle, who hadn’t yet noticed the paper was visible. How on Earth had _Farkle fucking Minkus_ gotten anything but an A+ on an assignment? He was impeccable, exceptional, Princeton-bound, and everyone knew it. 

_Well, no wonder he’s throwing a bitch fit._ A small voice reasoned in Riley’s head as she tried to appear casual, nibbling with her own pen. Weighing her options, she figured she didn’t have much to lose and spoke up.

“Final drafts are due tomorrow, right?”

Farkle stiffened beside her and she watched as his eyes darted to the paper on the desktop, face instantly draining of color. His knuckles turned white around his pencil but he remained silent.

Riley, true to her altruistic spirit, tried again, “Maybe I could take a look? You know, I took W131 last year and I am Ms. Pace’s student aid.”

Silence.

“You can still fix the grade, Farkle,” Slowly, hesitantly, Riley reached back out and brought her hand back over Farkle’s, gentle and loose this time, giving him all the power to pull away. He didn’t though, just eyed her polished fingertips with an unreadable expression.

“I don’t want your help.” Riley heard his words but also the lack of bite behind them. She knew him well enough at this point to know he was just being prideful.

Rolling her eyes, she took her hand back and picked up the paper between them. She began scanning and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, “Stop being an ass for once and just let me read the damn paper. Topanga’s at-“

“-5. Fine, have it your way, Matthews.”

Riley could swear that she heard the smallest hint of relief in Farkle’s voice before the bell rang overhead.

* * *

 “So?”

“Would you give a minute?”

“It’s a two-page paper, Matthews. Not _A Brief History of Time._ ”

“Do you want me to tell you how to fix it or not?”

“I want to fix it, but goddamn, you are a slow reader.”

“Farkle?”

“What?”

“Shut up.”

The boy dropped his head into his hands, groaning in frustration. Across the table, Riley had pinned her hair up in a messy bun with curls cascading down haphazardly here and there, a pen popping out of her mouth and a highlighter in hand. 

She really took the whole ‘peer editing’ thing to a new level. Then again, Farkle knew he should probably be thankful; he might be the scientific genius of Abigail Adams but everyone knew Riley Matthews was going to make Bestseller’s lists one day if she wasn’t too busy getting a Pulitzer. Writing was one thing that Farkle would fully admit Riley bested him in; so as annoying as they were, he tried not to question her methods.

Finally, Riley capped the highlighter and set down the pen, keeping her eyes on his now fully annotated, D-quality paper. He waited but the brunette stayed quiet. 

“Matthews!”

An amused smile flickered over Riley’s features, as if she was completely aware of how insane she was driving him, and she looked up with an arched brow, “Hmm?”

“You know ‘hmm’.” He scoffed, sitting up to cross his arms over his chest.

Riley bit her lip to keep back another smile before shrugging, “It’s an accurate paper, basically textbook perfect. You varied sentence structure, used vivid diction, answered the prompt. It’s just…”

Farkle sat up straighter as she trailed off, “Just what?”

She sighed and rested her chin on the palm of her hand and looking up at him with those melting, chocolate eyes. “You’re not gonna like it.”

“Matthews,” He pressed, giving her exasperated look.

“Okay,” She raised her hands in surrender before leaning back in her booth, keeping their eyes level. “When I read your paper, I _see_ what you’re trying to describe but I don’t _feel_ it. I’m not connected; it doesn’t draw me in.”

“Feel it? What the hell does that even mean?” Farkle snapped, his defenses coming up.

_For fuck’s sake, the boy was going to give her whiplash! Maybe she didn’t actually like him, maybe it was a temporary episode of insanity?_ Riley wondered, rolling her eyes before trying to explain, “It’s a descriptive narrative, Farkle.”

“And I described.”

“Your desk?” Riley asked, a tiny giggle of endearment bubbling up from her lips, “No one is going to connect to measuring the exact dimensions of your laptop.”

“It’s an empirical observation!” The genius countered, looking confused himself.

Riley gave him the look of exasperation this time, rubbing at her forehead, ”Yeah, well, people don’t connect to an empirical observation.”

The boy looked more confused than ever, sliding the paper back across the table. He looked over Riley’s notes, painstakingly taken in every section and crammed into the margins. She’d even used words like ‘please’ and had added little praises throughout just to soften the blow. How Riley Matthews of her…

“So, what do I do? I have to turn in something actually worth a decent grade by tomorrow.”

Farkle watched as Riley shifted in her seat, looking down into her lap, “Emotion can be pretty compelling,” She reached up and began doodling on the table top, “Write with emotion, Farkle.”

_Write with emotion?_

Farkle didn’t know how to do that. 

He spent most of his time trying to not pay attention to his emotions. As a scientist, he had to think clinically and analytically. Pathos, feelings, and bleeding hearts; they didn’t have a place in a laboratory. Facts and figures didn’t lie, like his mother’s words, or change, like his father’s promises. It was why he’d always loved science; he’d realized pretty young that the whole ‘love’ and ‘passion’ thing wasn’t his cup of tea.

Reluctantly, he shifted his gaze to the window, “How exactly do you do that?”

From the corner of his eye, he could see Riley slowly look up at him. There was something in her eyes, something hot and terrifying and enticing. He didn’t let himself dwell on it. He just kept his eyes on the passing bodies of New Yorkers as she answered

“Write about something that makes you feel _everything_.”

* * *

The next day, something horrifying happened.

At lunch, Maya Hart plopped herself down right next to Lucas Friar. This sandwiched the Texan between her and Zay, leaving Farkle and the only other empty seats across the table.

All three boys watched the girl in confusion as Riley fumbled her way into the seat beside Farkle, setting her tray down with shaking hands. Being with him alone in the dark, cozy corner booth at Topanga’s? That felt as natural to her as breathing. But being inches from brushing his shoulder in the crowded cafeteria? She couldn’t think straight.

Farkle seemed unfazed, if a little confused. He gave her a questioning look as Lucas spoke up across from them, “Uh, well, hello? I’m-“

“We know who ya are, Ranger Rick. And I’m sure you know that I’m Maya and that’s my good influence, Riley.” The blonde nonchalantly flicked her fork in her best friend’s direction.

Zay jumped in, “Yeah, we do but, my question is, why are you sitting with us?”

Maya sighed, as if just talking to the two boys was exhausting her, and gestured to the pair across the table, “Because Dr. Farklestein and my girl are-“

“Chemistry partners!” Riley yelped.

“Friends?” Farkle wondered aloud.

The brunette’s heart skipped a beat in her chest, her cheeks instantly flushing a bright, strawberry red. 

_Friends?_ Farkle had said ‘friends’! So, logically, even though he was still an ass from time to time, he couldn’t hate her anymore, right.

All eyes seemed to be on her. She found Farkle’s electric blue and relaxed, seeing only a mildly curiosity there and no offense. Nodding jerkily, Riley picked at the food on her tray, “We’re friends.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Zay threw up his hands, “I thought ya’ll hated each other?”

Farkle glared at his friend before shrugging, “I got valedictorian… And she’s alright.”

Riley focused herself to stay calm and collected, even if her heart hammering in her chest, “Oh, wow, thanks, Minkus! I think that’s the nicest thing I’ve ever heard you say.”

He threw her a smirk, “Don’t get use to it, Matthews.”

“So, Farkle,” Lucas broke in, eyeing the pair with suspicious eyes, “Have you talked to Smackle lately? She told me it’s been awhile and I think she misses you.”

Zay sighed, wistfully, “Man, I miss her! She was the only person who could deflate Farkle’s ego.”

Maya, catching Riley’s furrowed brow, spoke up, “Isadora Smackle, right? We went to elementary school with her.”

“Yeah, she hung out with us in Freshman and Sophomore year but then she moved to Sweden on this advanced college program.” Zay explained before turning to Farkle with an overdramatic pout, “Took poor Farkle’s heart with her!”

“Shut up, Zay. It wasn’t like that.” Farkle snapped, gripping his tray and bouncing his leg under the table. 

Riley’s mind began to whirl. She knew about Smackle, the girl had been mentioned over various study sessions and, as Maya had said, they had gone to the same school so long ago. She knew Farkle had been best friends with the other girl through middle school and some of high school, but she’d always thought that was it. She always thought that Smackle and Farkle had been _friends_.

Before she could stop herself, Riley asked, “So, what was it like?”

Farkle turned to her, eyes narrowed. She kept her gaze wide-eyed and innocent, chanting over and over to herself that _she was not jealous_ and that _she had no right to be jealous_. 

After a second, the young genius shrugged, “We dated, she moved, we’re friends. It’s not a big deal.” He glared the last few words to Zay, who just laughed.

Even though Farkle seemed a little irritated, Riley couldn’t help but feel relieved. She didn’t really know why, it wasn’t like him not being with someone else meant he wanted to be with her, but still…

It sort of left a door open, didn’t it?

* * *

Farkle Minkus sat on his bed a few nights later, eyeing the cell phone in his hands with trepidation. It really had been too long since he’d last talked to Isadora… Yet, it still felt too soon to call.

They’d broken up two years ago, been apart as long with only the rare visit home here and there otherwise. It wasn’t that he was still gutted over what had happened. Honestly, he hadn’t been all that gutted when it actually happened.

Isadora had invited him to the library to study. She’d been wearing a red sweater and a black skirt. He’d just finished summarizing the theory of motion that they’d been discussing when she’d set down her pen, looked him right in the eye and said _Farkle, I feel it would be most prudent to end our romantic relationship._

He’d been confused, but then she’d explained her opportunity to go to Sweden and he’d understood that. He’d choose Princeton over her; he couldn’t be shocked that she’d do the same in her own way. 

Besides, it was nice to be with Isadora but he knew life wouldn’t be much different in her absence. So they had parted ways and that was okay because they stayed friends.

And then, out of nowhere, on the last call Smackle had gotten giggly (she didn’t giggle) and said Zay was calling. She ignored the call but Farkle had pressed, asking what about _Zay_ got her all flustered. Smackle had blurted out that she had a crush on their shared friend.

It shouldn’t have bothered Farkle.

In their relationship, Smackle had always been the one to care more, love more, want more. Farkle wasn’t in love with her, wasn’t planning on marrying her or even getting back together with her. Smackle was easy for him to communicate with and he cared about her but he’d always known that that wasn’t enough. He just hadn’t expected her to be the one to move on first.

So he’d made some excuse to hang up and they hadn’t talked since. 

_Time for that to change_ , Farkle sighed and opened his phone to dial the familiar number.

The phone opened up to his already open contacts, Riley Matthews newly added information staring up at him. He had her number now, had texted with her back and forth after school. The word ‘friends’ had kind of just tumbled out of his mouth the other day in the cafeteria but now it appeared that she actually was just that.

And something about Riley Matthews was what had motivated him to finally call Isadora. He couldn’t understand how she could move on when he still hadn’t cared for anyone like her. But Riley Matthews, she understood everyone, sympathized with everything, and she seemed pretty damn happy.

Maybe he should give her ways a shot?

The understand part, obviously. _Not_ the whole moving on to a new romantic relationship part…

Deciding to contemplate  _that_ whole situation later, Farkle selected ‘Isadora Smackle’ and held the phone to his ear.

“Hello, Isadora Smackle speaking.”

* * *

It was Friday and Riley was feeling pretty depressed.

Auggie had a school performance and both Cory and Topanga had promised to be in attendance. Maya’s art was being displayed in a gallery downtown as well, so Riley had traded shifts at Topanga’s with Katy so that the mother could go praise her daughter. Riley would make it up to Maya the next day by helping to pack her exhibit up.

At that moment, however, she was stuck on clean-up duty, waiting for the ten minutes left until close to pass so she could go home and curl up in her pajamas. _No one_ liked working Friday night, yet they left her to do it alone.

Riley gathered a cup and saucer, stacking her tray carefully to compensate for her incurable clumsiness. The cafe was finally empty, the lights dimmed to help lessen Riley’s growing migraine. She flipped the lock on the glass door, not caring if it was technically too early.

Her back was to the door, rinsing dishes, when a knock sounded to indicate someone’s presence. The knock was loud and an insistent, enough to make the girl sigh and turn round to see who was beyond the glass.

Farkle _fucking_ Minkus.

“What the hell…?“ She muttered, wiping her hands on the apron tied around her waist as she quickly crossed the dining room to the door. Spinning the lock, she ducked out into the small courtyard, leaning back against the door. “What’s your problem, now, Minkus?”

To her utter shock, the boy actually smiled, “No problem at all, actually. Matthews, you are a genius!” He held up a paper, a bright A+ inked on the front, “This is my first A+ from Pace and it’s all thanks to you.”

“That’s great, Farkle!” Feeling giddy and maybe just a little lightheaded, Riley laughed as her cheeks flushed, “Well, I’m not surprised. I _am_ the best writer in Abigail Adams, after all.”

Farkle laughed, like really laughed, and it made him so beautiful Riley lost her breathe for a moment, “And _so_ modest, too!”

“Hey, this ego is well deserved.” She jokingly defended, playing with her hands.

Farkle nodded, “Yeah, but now that I know how to write, I _have_ to take you down a few pegs. As your friend, of course.”

Riley rolled her eyes in exasperation, “Don’t be mean to me! I got you an A+, you should be thanking me right now.”

Farkle bit the inside of his cheek, dimming his smile somewhat, as he eyed the accusing finger Riley had aimed at his chest. Nodding, he leaned in. His voice was quiet and soft against her ears, his breath and scent sweeping over her like a tidal wave she didn’t mind drowning in. 

“Thank you, Riley.”

Electric blue eyes filled with galaxies met chocolate brown eyes filled with humility and all of time and space seemed to freeze. Riley couldn’t breathe, couldn’t speak, could only register the fact that he had just called her ‘Riley’ for the first time ever and had whispered it so gently. Farkle didn’t know what the feeling was in his chest, just that Riley Matthews caused it and he was completely okay with being burned away by it in that frozen moment.

Her hands flew up, grabbing his face, and pulling his lips to hers in a collision that put the Big Bang to shame. 

The pressure in her chest finally eased as her hands slipped, arms coiling around his neck, pulling him closer, bring him in. He was so much taller that she could barely manage the reach on her tiptoes, kissing him as fiercely as the flame igniting her cells, but she didn’t care. Not right then, at least.

Farkle remained frozen, his always-fiddling hands still in his pockets, before he seemed to realize that this was _Riley Matthews_ and she was _kissing him._

Reanimating, he kissed her back with more emotion than he’d previously thought he was capable and would later deny feeling. Those same hands came up, leaving a trail of goosebumps down the girl’s arms until they stopped to grip her hips. He pressed her flush against him until there was no space, just clothing, between them.

A moan escaped Riley’s lips, bring Farkle crashing back to reality. And he was _kissing Riley Matthews_.

Still gripping the brunette’s hips, Farkle gently pushed her back and broke the kiss, the spell of it all fading away. He stared down at Riley as she kept her eyes closed for a moment, a hand coming up to cover her mouth. Once the pads of her fingers touched her lips, her eyes flew open and she stared at Farkle in utter horror.

Opening his mouth, Farkle tried to speak but Riley cut him off, “I- That was- I just-“

As she sputtered, a hand came down to push against his chest, her eyes following his own arm to where his fingers still dug into the skin showing between her jeans and t-shirt. Farkle’s gazed followed her’s and his ears turned pink as he jumped away from the girl, dropping his hands to his side and pacing a few strides away.

Tugging at his hair, he spun around, “Look, Matthews-“

But Riley was already spinning towards the door, squeaking a “Night” over her shoulder before closing and locking the cafe behind her. 

Farkle stood alone in the small courtyard, trying to think, trying to comprehend the fact that Riley Matthews had just kissed him like her life depended on it and he’d kissed her back and it had felt _so damn right_.

And then it hit him, hard.

…He liked her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AHHHHH! THEY KISSED! IT KINDA HAPPENED! THEY BOTH KNOW THEY LIKE EACH OTHER, JUST NOT THAT THE OTHER FEELS THE SAME!!! Did you guys like it? I really hope so! Because this chapter kind of marks the beginning of the real craziness I have planned. I hope you guys approve, tell me, I LOVE feedback!
> 
> Current Coming Soon List: 
> 
> -Summer Plans (A Riarkle Future Snapshot): Riley and Farkle announcing their engagement to their families
> 
> -There’s a Farkle Under Your Bed (A Riarkle Future Snapshot): Farkle and Riley have been keeping their newfound relationship under wraps... until Cory finds Farkle under Riley’s bed that is
> 
> -Fighting With The Freaking Sun! (A Riarkle Future Snapshot): Even people who are perfect for each other fight and fighting with Riley Matthews is a little like fighting the sun
> 
> -The Lucky Ones (A Riarkle Socialite AU): Farkle Minkus, the young and newly appointed Head of Minkus International, has just married middle-class, all-American Riley Matthews and she’s quite a packaged deal... Can Riley play her new role of perfect, wealthy housewife?
> 
> -The Electronic Configuration of Hate and Love (Part 4): THEY KISSED! What the hell happens now?


	4. Chapter Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "The only thing the two seemed able to agree upon was that Abigail Adams was definitely not big enough for the both of them." Riley Matthews and Farkle Minkus have hated each other from the first day of Freshmen year, but now they have to spend the rest of their Senior year chemistry partners.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I've decided to keep Electronic Configuration rated T. I will, however, warn you guys up here in the notes whenever a chapter has the potential to stray into M territory. Again, I never write anything graphic but I still don't want to offend any of you guys! I love you too much!! Please give me feedback, like Lady Gaga, I live for the applause.

Riley sat with her knees tucked up to her chin, hugging her legs, on the bench of her classic bay window. Outside, the sky was pitch black, shifting into a gradient with the glow of the New York cityscape below. The stars were clouded behind fog and light pollution, the moon just barely a sliver of luminescent yellow contradicting to the bleakness of everything else.

She wished there would be a falling star or a comet. Something she could wish on.

How could she have been so stupid? 

She’d let herself be swept up the moment, caught up in _Farkle_ and his smile and her name on his lips. Kissing him had been a mistake. He didn’t have feelings like that for her. He’d called himself her friend practically seconds before she flung herself at him, for God’s sake! 

Riley was _humiliated._

She didn’t even understand her own actions. She had focused most of her time and energy over the years to academics and extracurriculars; the rest dedicated to Maya and her family. Despite being a hopeless romantic, Riley had sacrificed dating to ensure she would achieve her goals, like Columbia. 

She’d had crushes, sure, one even on Farkle’s best friend, Lucas Friar, not too long ago but _this_ was different. This, _he,_ was all she could ever think about anymore. She worried for him, missed him, longed for the next moment she would be able to be beside him. 

Riley had never felt more out-of-control in her life.

It was only going to get worse tomorrow when she had to face Farkle for the first time since her complete lapse of control and judgment. Knowing what a dick the boy could be, he’d probably laugh at her or sneer at her feelings for him…

_No,_ A tiny voice whispered hopefully in the back of her head, _He wouldn’t do that. Things are different now and you know that. You know he feels_ _something_ _for you._

But did he? 

Farkle called her a friend, accepted her help, and seemed to like spending time with her but none of that meant he was _in love_ with her.

Riley stopped breathing, her heart skipping a beat.

In love? Where the hell had that come from? 

Because having a silly, school-girl crush on Farkle or liking him as more than a friend was one thing but _being in love with him_ … She couldn’t be in love with him! She didn’t even know what that would feel like so obviously she was just tripping over her own thoughts and thinking too much again and wondering about things that were just… not true.

There was a light knock on her bedroom door, pulling her from her jumbled brain. She turned to the door and rested her head against her knees caps, calling softly, "Come in."

The door swung open and Riley's mother, Topanga Lawrence-Matthews, ducked her head around the wood. She had a look of confusion and concern on her face as she stepped into the bedroom, "Why are you still up?"

"Why are you?" Riley asked with a tired, teasing smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. As a hard working, high-profile, New York lawyer and small business owner, Riley's mother rarely stayed up past her own teenage daughter. She was mocked relentlessly for it by her husband and children.

Topanga crossed her arms over her chest and gave Riley a look before stepping over to the bay window and sitting beside her daughter, "Everything okay?"

The brunette considered the question, furrowing her brow and inspecting her bony toes, "I need to repaint my toenails. They're chipped."

The mother looked her child over before nodding. She got up, finding Riley's favorite-as-of-late blue nail polish and sat back down, patting her lap. Without a word, Riley settled her feet into her mother's lap and watched as Topanga began repainting the nails. 

They were silent for a moment before her mother prompted her again, "Anything besides clipped paint you want to talk about?"

Riley bit her cheek and looked out the window, "Have you ever done something without thinking? And it seems like now you can't fix it but you also don't really want to and... And you just confused?"

"Well," Topanga gave her daughter an amused sideways glance, "I think so but you might have to give me more than that for me to help you out, Sweetie."

"There's... this boy," The girl finally admitted, reluctantly. She felt her mother pause between nails but pressed on anyway, "I think that I might really like him but we're just friends and Friday I-" She blushed scarlet and picked at her fingernails, chipping those as well, "I might have kissed him."

A squeal erupted from her mother, causing the girl to look at her wide eyed and flush even redder. Topanga held up a hand and took a deep breath, "Sorry. Sorry, Sweetie! You're just to grown up now and-"

"Mom!"

"I know! I know! Okay, so you kissed him. Why is that a problem?”

“Because,” Riley sighed, flicking some hair out of her field of vision, “Because we could not be more mixed-matched if we tried. He’s so confusing and everything with him is like one step forward and three back and I never know what he’s thinking! And even if all that were different, he doesn’t have feelings for me.”

Topanga gave her daughter a questioning look, “If you never know what he’s thinking, how do you know he doesn’t?”

Riley opened her mouth to reply, thinking back for a moment on the way Farkle’s blue eyes had seemed to crackle as he looked down at her, right before she had kissed him. She recalled the grip he’d had on her hips, how he’d practically crushed her against him. 

How kissing him had felt a little like playing with fire…

She closed her mouth, furrowing her brow.

 

* * *

He fucking kissed Riley Matthews… and liked it. And very, very much wanted to do it again.

This was not an outcome he’d been anticipating. No educated guess he’d concocted upon first being paired with Riley could have possibly prepared him for _this_.

She was Riley, for god’s sakes! Farkle couldn’t have even imagined speaking to her without wanted to throttle her a month ago and now…

Well, now things were different. And confusing. And maybe even a little… intriguing?

_She_ was intriguing, at least. 

Riley, honestly, had always seemed kind of boring to him from afar. She was the classic, sweet, smart, teacher’s pet that no one really hated but only a few really liked. People called her a prude from time-to-time and Farkle had laughed because how could a girl who looked like _that_ be a senior in high school and never had a boyfriend? 

He’d always assumed she thought she was just better than everyone else, above all the drama of dating. Farkle had thought she was a snob. 

But the way she’d kissed him like she was composed of raw energy and passion. Riley had made him breathless, like she was trying to kill him, like a siren dragging him down to the deepest depths of the ocean.

Sparks, silk, and vibrant color.

_That_ was Riley Matthews.

She was a warmth that Farkle had never fully had in his life. His mother was chiseled from ice, after all, and his father’s distance always left the whole penthouse cold. His friends helped, sure, but they’d always seemed separate from him. Like they were too far away to hear him through the static.

But Riley was pure sunlight and solar flare, blinding him when he looked to closely but deathly too him when they were parted.

She was soft, something he’d always thought a weakness before. Only, the more kindness and forgiveness he saw Riley give without condition, the more he wished he could be capable of that. Maybe it was how he was raised but everything had a price, even made-up ideas like _love_ , and Farkle was still sort of waiting to see what Riley’s play really was. 

But she never demanded anything in return for giving him her time or energy. Even weeks ago, when she still couldn’t stand him, she had openly and easily offered her sympathy and understanding, her grace.

Grace that Farkle only understood enough to know it was undeserved.

She scared him, honestly. She was a wild card, an unpredictable element. But he couldn’t tear himself away anymore, had either lost the fight to or just didn’t care anymore.

Because kissing Riley had felt a little like drowning in a riptide…

And Farkle really didn’t want to think _too much_ about that.

 

* * *

The next morning came with a sense of uncertainty for Farkle Minkus.

It had been a while since he'd been nervous about walking the halls of his school. Once upon a time, the anxiety of that simple act had been ingrained into his daily routine but it had been a few years since he'd been that boy. Being friends with Lucas and Zay, learning to not react, over time he'd just grown into... someone else.

Someone who was not necessarily more confident but just cared less?

Caring was effort and irrational. It screwed with his head and Farkle hated nothing more than being clouded. Scientists, realists, like him had to be clear-minded and unaffected by silly emotional ties. Besides, it looked positively _exhausting_ to have as many feelings as most of his peers seemed to.

So, Farkle didn't usually care.

But this thing with Riley Matthews, well, he couldn't really help it. 

Nervously glancing toward her locker, Farkle saw that she was nowhere in sight and felt both relieved and disappointed. He hadn't wanted to talk to her or anything, didn't want to seem desperate, but seeing her would have... not been unwelcomed.

The locker beside him slammed shut and started him, causing him to smack his forehead into the door of his own. Groaning and rubbing his brow, Farkle glared at a grinning Zay. 

The other boy laughed, glancing over at their third musketeer, Lucas, "I think it's about time that our boy here admits he's smitten. What do you think, Lucas?"

The blonde boy smirked and rolled his eyes, "Sure, Zay."

"Kindly fuck off, would you?" Farkle asked, closing his locker and tugging at his hair. He glanced back at Riley's locker again. She was still not there. "I am not 'smitten'. This isn’t the Roaring 20s."

His two friends looked at each other, eyebrows quirked. Looking back at Farkle, Lucas sighed, "You know it's okay to like a girl, right? Even Riley Matthews."

Farkle chuckled, "You make it sound like I've never dated before. Remember, I had a girlfriend for two years."

"So, you _do_ want Riley to be your _girlfriend_?" Zay sang, knowingly.

The young genius clenched his jaw and rubbed the back of his neck, rolling his eyes, "I don't."

" _Oh_ ," The boy nodded, tapping their other friend on his arm. "I mean, I guess that's good for Lucas. Right, Lucas?"

Both Farkle and Lucas looked at Zay in confusion. 

After a moment, a look of realization passed over Mr. Perfect's face and he cleared his throat, nodding, "Uh, yeah!"

"What?" Farkle asked, narrowing his eyes.

Lucas shrugged, "Well, Riley's pretty cool and since you don't like her, I was thinking about asking her out. You wouldn't mind, right?"

_Of course,_ Farkle thought while digging his nails into his palms, _Of fucking course, Lucas was interested in Riley._

It made sense, from a Darwinistic standpoint, for Lucas to be interested in Riley. They were both optimists, both bright and shiny people. Two supernovas, lighting up the galaxy together like Hera and Zeus, while _he_ and Riley... they were opposites.

The only connection between them was the natural attraction of unlike forces; Farkle knew that. He knew that even something as bright as a quasar could be consumed if it passed too close to a black hole. He didn’t belong in Riley’s gravitational belt, but perhaps Lucas did. 

Objectively, it made sense.

It was at least a hypothesis worth testing.

Still, ice pierced his chest because the idea of Riley Matthews with one of his _best friends_ ; it made his stomach curl. No, it made him want to punch Lucas, to sock him right in that Mr. Perfect smile of his until all that Southern Charm was long gone and moving on. 

See how _Lucas_ liked being beaten down for a change…

Confident, cold, uncaring; it was how his mother always played it and maybe Farkle was a bit more like her than he liked to admit. Unclenching his jaw and forcing his hands out of the fists they'd locked themselves into, Farkle shifted his book bag on his shoulder and shrugged.

"Do what you want, Lucas."

Farkle _really_ wanted to punch his best friend… But he wished that he didn’t care at all even more.

* * *

Riley fiddled with her Breast cancer pink pen and tried desperately to focus on the AB Calculus equation before her. It was one of those problems that, between the formula and the proof, took up an entire notebook page. She had thought she'd solved it but her answer didn't match the textbook.

"Hey, Riley!" 

The brunette turned her head up, smiling as Lucas Friar approached her desk. It was a work day and the teacher, Mrs. Armani, had left them to their own devices with the simple instructions of staying quiet.

Sitting up, Riley drummed her pen on her thigh, "Lucas!"

She guessed that they were friends now, right? 

He _was_ Farkle's best friend and since she had still managed to postpone speaking to the genius, she assumed that they were technically still ‘friends' as well. Riley tried not to think about the pathetic crush she’d had on the Texan back in freshman year, but her cheeks still tinted pink.

Lucas came to stand before her, glancing over his shoulder before setting his notebook down on her desk and leaning down, into her space. Startled, Riley jerked back and laughed, nervously, as the boy smiled at her. 

“Sorry,” Lucas gave her back some space, resting his elbows on her desktop, “I just had a quick question.”

Eyebrows drawing together, Riley tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, “Well, I mean, I can try to help but Farkle took AB last year s-“  


“Not about Calc, Riley.” The boy smirked and Riley could feel herself blush. She wasn’t used to such direct attention from someone so, well, attractive. Besides, maybe Farkle… _so not the time, Matthews._

Shifting in her seat, the brunette nodded, “Oh! Um, okay?”

Lucas licked his lips and sighed, looking over his shoulder again. Craning her neck a little, Riley could see Zay standing in the doorway of the classroom, gesturing wildly to his friend. Giggling, the girl narrowed her eyes as Lucas whirled back around to look at her, “What are you two up to?”

“Would you like to go out with me? Thursday night?” Lucas shot out, startling the poor girl for about the third time. Riley’s lips parted slightly, eyes widening in confusion. The Texan cleared his throat and slowly looked up to meet her warm, brown eyes, “It’s the start of the long weekend, so…”

_Go out? With Lucas Friar?_

At fifteen, Riley would have been staring at the boy, mouth open like a whale and a grin so big on her face it might have split it. She would have nodded and chanted ‘yes’ and walked on clouds for the rest of her life. She’d have gone home and doodled ‘Riley Friar’ until her notebook ran out of pages.

So, why did she feel nothing but dread at being asked now?

_Because you wish it wasn’t_ **_him_ ** _asking._

Swallowing, Riley bit her lip and gave Lucas an apologetic look, “I’m so sorry but I can’t. There’s just…” She glanced down at her fiddling hands and shrugged, “Something else going on?”

Lucas looked oddly relieved and nodded slowly, “Yeah! I get it, Riley. No problem! Just let me know if you happen to change your mind, okay?”  


“Sure,” Riley agreed, smiling politely as Lucas made his way back across the classroom.

He _was_ a very pretty boy…

But he didn’t make Riley’s heart race.

_God, why couldn't life just be nice and have_ **_Farkle_ ** _ask her out instead?_

* * *

 

 

The moment had come and Riley was still completely unprepared. 

Stepping into the chemistry classroom seconds before the bell rang, the brunette was both relieved and disappointed to see Farkle already copying notes at their usual table. She felt a hand pat her back and gave Maya, who had a smug smirk on her face, a glare.

Making her way to her seat, Riley shakily set her textbook down on the table and glanced over at Farkle, “Minkus.”

The boy paused in his writing for just a second before continuing on as if she hadn’t spoken. Riley’s stomach rolled, the bundle of nerves in her gut making her eyes water. Taking a deep breath, she tried again, “Your weekend?”

Farkle shrugged, silently. He still hadn’t so much as _looked_ at her. _Fuck, fuck, fuck, why had she kissed him? Why, oh why?_

Still, even if he didn’t like her, he could at least… talk to her? Right?

Riley started one last time, “I actually thought a lot during mine. About what happened last week… Or Friday night… Or between-“

“Matthews, I’m trying to work so that we can actually pass this assignment and get out of each other’s hair so would you _please_?” Farkle cut her off, finally dropping his pen to look right at her. 

The girl swallowed hard, eyes burning. _Get out of each other’s hair_ … But Riley really liked Farkle’s hair. She could remember gripping on to it and the feel of down feathers between her fingers as he took her lower lip into his mouth and clasped her hips.

Blinking and bewildered, Riley tried to keep herself calm. 

Maybe this was just one of those mood swings Farkle always seemed to be getting into. Maybe he’d had a bad weekend at home. Maybe it wasn’t really her and it was just bad timing. Maybe, maybe, maybe…

“Planning on being a dead weight all period?” Farkle’s voice broke through the fog in her brain and made her snap to attention. He had finished copying the notes and was glaring at her blank paper. 

“No!” She snapped, coming back to herself as irritation flared to life in her chest. “Planning on being a dick all period?”

“You’re right, Matthews,” The genius shot her a sarcastic smile with cold, icy blue eyes, “I _am_ a dick but at least I don’t throw myself at someone and then run off the second a better offer comes along.”

Riley stared at him, dumbfounded. How did he even _know_ about Lucas? And what did he mean ‘run off’ when she had turned the other boy down? And all in hopes that he would get the courage to ask her out himself, for fuck’s sake!

So, Farkle thought that little of her? 

That she would kiss him and then go out with his best friend days later?

_Well, fucking fine. He wants to be right about every damn thing? I’ll let him be right!_

Biting her lip and glaring at her paper, Riley shook her head. Anger boiled in her blood and in that moment, she just wanted to make _Farkle_ feel like shit for once. He did it so often to her, it only seemed fair.

Leveling her chin and checking to be sure Mr. Hudson wasn’t paying attention but Farkle was, Riley called lowly across the classroom, “Lucas!”

The boy, a few tables ahead of them, turned around questioningly. He glanced at his best friend, who sat tensely beside Riley, before quirking an eyebrow to the girl who’d summoned him.

Smiling in a way that looked painfully rehearsed, she said, “I changed my mind. I’d like to go out with you Thursday.” She glanced at Farkle from the corner of her eye and found him watching her with those cold, calculating eyes. “Turns out that ‘something else’ was really _nothing_.”

“Oh,” Lucas nodded slowly before grinning uncertainly, “Great.”

And with that, Riley Matthews began copying her notes down with a well-hidden sense of dread in the pit of her stomach and a quiver in her handwriting.

* * *

 

 

_Changed her mind?_

_Changed her mind…_

_Changed her mind!_

Farkle couldn’t get it out of his head. Riley had said she had ‘changed her mind’ and wanted to go out with Lucas.

Meaning that she’d originally turned Lucas down and Farkle had assumed the worst of her. 

Could he really be blamed for that? Most of the people he’d met only had the worst of themselves left; it had always been difficult to believe there was a human as fundamentally _kind_ as Riley. So, he’d made an assumption based on past behaviors and solid reasoning and, yeah, he’d gotten it wrong but should that really cost him any chance at…

At _what_?

Because Farkle hadn’t been exactly lying that morning when Zay had asked him about Riley and used that word, _girlfriend._ Farkle didn’t want Riley Matthews to be his girlfriend; he didn’t have time or energy or motivation for a girlfriend. 

He just knew he liked her. He just wanted to be with her and have her all to himself and kiss her like she’d kissed him on Friday. Completely different.

_Not that it matters now, you asshole. A real stellar job there, Minkus._

While the ‘changed her mind’ part of Riley’s words had stung and made him want to sink into the Earth, it was the last thing she had said that _really_ cut to the bone.

_That ‘something else’ was really_ **_nothing_ ** _._

Was… was _he_ the ‘something else’? And subsequently, the _nothing_?

Had Riley actually, in some cruel twist of fate or destiny or whatever it was idiot’s believed in, had some kind of feelings for him and now she didn’t? Was that how feelings like this worked? One second you had them and the next you didn’t because you were offended? That didn’t sound right.

And that didn’t feel right, Farkle realized as he glanced over at a fuming Riley again. Riley had offended him too and he was still very… fuck it, _smitten_ with her. Maybe…

But no, because Riley had said that he was ‘nothing’. His mother had told him that a few times after one too many glasses of wine. He’d documented it in his own notes, trying to prove his theory about being a living black hole. Farkle knew Riley was right, just like he knew he shouldn’t care and should stay rational and unemotional.

Only, Farkle still wanted to _drown in Riley Matthews_ and he knew that wasn’t rational.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aren’t these two just so fucking FRUSTRATING!?!?! Like, just bang guys, for real. Everyone wants ya to… Haha, anyway… I hope you guys like this update and are interested to see how this little triangle/totally-not-gonna-work date drama goes!


End file.
